


It Seems You're The Only One

by aurics



Series: Song Drabbles Collection [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Drabble Collection, Libraries, M/M, Pining, Romance, Sports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 13:51:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4963048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurics/pseuds/aurics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred is completely smitten by the school's student librarian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Seems You're The Only One

**Author's Note:**

> I've been having a bit of a block, so I decided to do this Song Drabbles Challenge thing where you basically press play on your iTunes library and write a drabble based on whatever song comes up. No idea how many I'll be doing, but I hope I can complete at least 10!
> 
> Based on the song "Kimi Janakye Dame Mitai", Gekkan Shoujo's opening OST. Title of this fic is the same as the song. [Here](http://www.lyrical-nonsense.com/lyrics/masayoshi-oishi/kimi-janakya-dame-mitai/#page=English) is the English trans to the lyrics.

 

“Watch out!"

 

But the warning comes too late. The plummeting books — hardcovers at that — hit Alfred square on the head, sending the passing boy toppling to the ground with a loud groan. The sensation of hitting the floor with his cheek is numbed out by the throbbing he feels on his skull. Shit. He hopes he hasn’t broken anything.

 

“I’m sorry! Crap, I’ve reallydone it now,” comes a hiss and Alfred faintly registers the familiarity of the voice. He knows the voice. “Are you alright? I mean, that’s a stupid question, but…"

 

The feeling in his face is back and Alfred blinks his eyes open to see a pair of eyebrows furrowing back at him concern — among other things, of course. But it’s Arthur Kirkland, the student librarian whom Alfred has been pining over for months now, kneeling in front of him and wincing apologetically, that catches Alfred’s attention like a lightning bolt striking an open field. In an instant, he feels electrified as he jolts upright, nearly knocking foreheads with Arthur in the process. That definitely would have been romantic.

 

“Yeah! Yeah,” he says a little too loudly for library volume, clearing his throat to achieve the perfect nonchalant effect. “It’s cool."

 

“Oh, it's you, Alfred,” Arthur lets out a breath of relief at the knowledge of not having knocked down a complete stranger, but an injury is an injury. Meanwhile, Alfred's stomach bursts into butterflies at the mention of his name. "I apologise, I don’t usually make blunders like this. Crap, there’s a scar on your cheek.”

 

Alfred brings a hand up to the aforementioned part of his face, feeling a dribble of wetness and fingers coming away with red. He scrunches his nose at the sight. The edge of one of the hardbacks must have decided to have a wrestle with his face. It’s going to hurt like a bitch later. And then there is a pair of hands that is definitely _not his_ cupping his cheeks. Suddenly, Arthur's face is much too close to his, inspecting his cut and completely oblivious to Alfred's internal meltdown. He has never been this close to Arthur, and he's even more gorgeous up close.

 

“Oh dear, that looks rather deep. Let me call the nurse for you — she’ll fix it up — oh god, I’m really sorry —"

 

Alfred twists out of Arthur's grip and steps out of his stupor. Letting out a nervous laugh, he says, “No need, buddy. This ain’t nothing but a small scratch, don’t get worked up over it."

 

Arthur bites his bottom lip, staring at Alfred dubiously. “Are you positive? It won't take too long, though."

 

“Yeah, definitely!” Alfred nods, hiding the tremor in his voice. He scrambles to his feet, wipes his palm on his trousers and shoots Arthur a grin without looking into his eyes. “Gotta hurry and get to football practice now. See ya!"

 

He practically flees from the library, the pain in his cheek forgotten and his heartbeat drowning out the sound of the hallways.

 

 

-

 

 

The deal is, Alfred rarely gets confused. He leans a little towards the stubborn side, charging ahead often recklessly when he wants to. But with Arthur, it’s a different story. 

 

Whistling as he walks with sports bag slung over his shoulder, Alfred sticks by his routine of taking the long way home every day for a certain someone.

 

Alfred has always been averse to all the emotional drama that supposedly happens in high school. He hates the idea of it, thinks it’s a waste of time when there are countless extracurriculars he can take up, so many opportunities to take advantage of while he’s still young and energetic. That was why when Alfred stopped right in the middle of dribbling during a basketball game to gape at something — someone — in the bleachers, his friends teased him to no end.

 

“Do you think he enjoys basketball games?” Alfred had mused out loud once during lunch. “I think I’ll invite him to our next match against that top-tier school. If we win, he’d be impressed, right?"

 

Kiku, his best friend, made a small noise at the back of his throat and put his juice box down carefully. “I… I do not know how to say this… without disappointing you, but I’m afraid not.” He flinched, and looked away. “He was only at the match to write an article for the school newspaper. I’m afraid Arthur Kirkland is more of a book person."

 

“Oh,” replied Alfred. “Then I guess I’ll just have to visit the library more often!"

 

That was four months ago, and now after spending much of his time dawdling around in the library there has been little to no progress.

 

He munches on his granola bar, staring at the ground and kicking dried leaves as he walks past. He pats the band-aid on his cheek absently. The sting is almost gone, but for some reason there's still a tingling feeling to it, left behind by Arthur's touch. It's ridiculous, but Alfred has never been so happy to have an injury. Funnily, when things are completely unplanned, they seem to work in Alfred's favour; quite the opposite happens whenever he tries to purposefully make time with Arthur.

 

There’s that time Alfred pretended to look for a History textbook, even though he doesn’t even take the subject, because he knew the book was difficult to find (thanks to Kiku, of course) and it would allow them to spend more time with each other. But the time Arthur took trying to find that book was spent in complete silence, with Alfred, for once in his life, not knowing what to say. He chalked it up to Arthur being an intimidating senior, and not because he was nervous about the dumb things he would have blurted out.

 

And then there was another time when Alfred spilled chocolate milk from the cafeteria on the reading area’s carpet, and Arthur had to physically lead him by the wrist outside to give him a very quiet, but incredibly stern scolding about the eating and drinking policies in the library. If he’d thought Alfred’s face had turned red from the shame he felt, he was sorely mistaken — Alfred could not forget the warmth of Arthur’s palm on his skin for the next three days.

 

Alfred slows down and glances to his left. A small but cosy house is nestled on the corner of the road, garden looking as well-kept as ever and the fence that seems to be freshly-painted. How Arthur even manages to keep his house flawless as well is a mystery to Alfred — although of course, it’s not like he lives alone there. Every day, Alfred would take the long route home just to pass by his house, because sometimes Arthur would be sitting on the porch, a book in his hand and headphones on, probably listening to those classical music he sometimes plays in the library. Or, if he’s less lucky, Arthur would have his curtain open, and Alfred can catch glimpses of him upstairs from below.

 

But today is the worst luck of all, because Arthur is nowhere to be seen and Alfred can feel a sinking feeling of disappointment on the bottom of his stomach. Alfred hates it. Having to be on the sidelines and watching Arthur like he’s a stalker. He wants to sit down with Arthur, let him talk about books while Alfred listens intently, trying to focus on the words he’s saying but ultimately failing because Arthur himself is far too mesmerising. And Alfred would talk about the many sports he plays, an identical expression on Arthur’s face and the same thoughts running through his mind.

 

Stopping, Alfred shakes his head, getting rid of the cheesy scenarios playing like a movie. He’s going crazy.

 

But nothing will change if he doesn’t do something.

 

Alfred is tired of sidestepping what will ultimately come back to him, still unresolved. He’s exhausted, and he wants to give up. But not without a reckless attempt done. He _is_ Alfred Jones after all.

 

So he takes, one, three, seven steps to cross Arthur’s gates and stands in front of his door, puffing up his chest and exhaling loudly. 

 

Alfred is completely crazy, but there’s only one way to know for sure.

 

He hesitates, lets his finger hover over the button before pressing it resolutely. 

 

The door is thrown open immediately. Alfred jumps, seeing a pair of brilliant green eyes shining with mirth meeting his.

 

“I thought you’d never ring."

 

 


End file.
